


Breathe Again

by Dreaming_of_a_Bright_Sky



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: AU, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_of_a_Bright_Sky/pseuds/Dreaming_of_a_Bright_Sky
Summary: One hundred and eighty years after the Battle of the Five Armies, the time of the elves in in twilight. King Elessar is dying, and Legolas is soon to sail west. A battle gone wrong and a timely meeting change the course of his life for eternity.





	Breathe Again

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be writing in a challenge, but this story took over my brain. (To an absolutely frustrating degree. I even dreamed about it) So, here this is. 
> 
> LOTR lore is immense. This is based off the movies, but I did a LOT of research to write this. I swear, I spent more time researching timelines, places, distances, languages, and customs than I did writing. That said, there's no doubt I got things wrong. I tweaked movie cannon in places while trying to remain true to the overall story. 
> 
> I understand and respect how dedicated many Tolkien fans are, but no criticism is welcome. This is an AU of the movie verse. All tweaks and changes are my own, and chalk them up to being an AU. 
> 
> I don't own Tolkien, or the movies, or much of anything really. I'm just playing in the sandbox.

Tauriel rode slowly through the black plains of Mordor. Spotting movement, she pulled up her horse. An older dwarf, hair full of grey, held his hands up in a display of peace. He moved closer. “Milady, if I may?”  
  
The elven woman inclined her head in acknowledgment and the man moved forward and bowed. “My name is Gimli, son of Gloin. Do you have any of the healing arts of your kind?”  
  
Tauriel fought to hide the shock. She remembered Gloin, and it brought a pang of grief because it made her recall Kili. “Well met, Gimli. I am Tauriel. I do possess a minor ability to heal, although nothing like that of Elrond.”  
  
The dwarven man looked grim. “It'll have to do. My companion is badly hurt and I can do nothing for him. Will you at least have a look?”  
  
“I will, but I can make no promises.”  
  
Gimli nodded. “This way.”  
  
She followed as he lead the way through the desolate land. It was an area that had been devastated by the war and little lived here except the dark remnants of Sauron's army. As they approached the crumbling, stone hut Tauriel felt compelled to ask, “What are you doing out here? There's nothing but orcs and ruin.”  
  
Gimli huffed. “I could ask the same of you, lass.” He looked back towards Minas Tirith. “We're clearing out the riff raff. It makes an old friend happy that his home is protected.”  
  
Tauriel nodded in approval. “I came here for similar task; the more orcs I kill, the safer the world will be.”  
  
“Aye. True enough.” He waited as she dismounted and tied her horse. Afterward, he stepped forward and opened the creaky wooden door. “In here.”  
  
As soon as the door swung open, Tauriel took in the small room. The door was on one wall, two pallets had been laid out on the adjacent side. In the one furthest from the door and in the corner, a figure covered in blankets lay curled on their side. They lay facing away from her. From the size, she knew it was no dwarf. The blond hair made her conclude that it was likely one of the Rohirrim.  
  
She knew it was a grievous injury because there was the rotten stench of the poison favored by the orcs. Of all the races, Men were the least hardy and this meant the injury was far beyond her capabilities. She had, however, promised to take a look. The person shifted and she caught sight of the pointed ears of her kind. With a dawning horror, she realized the profile was familiar.

 

She hurried forwards and dropped to her knees beside him. She laid a slim hand against his face and felt the fever raging under his skin. “Meld mellon, what has happened to you?” [Dear friend]  
  
At her voice, he turned his head. Pain was etched in his features and when he recognized her, his eyes widened. “Tauriel.” His voice was a whispered rasp, and she could tell it pained him. She reached to her belt and grabbed one of the two water skins that hung there. As she did, a rough hand grabbed her wrist.  
  
Gimli was looking at her, warning in his eyes. “He'll not keep it down, and be all the worse for it.”  
  
She looked up at the worried dwarf and released her hold on the skin. “Could you please grab my saddle bags? I have something that may help him.”

 

As Gimli left, Legolas opened his eyes. He tried to speak, “Tauriel...Goheno nin...” [forgive me]

 

Talking caused him to cough a little and it clearly pained him. “Shhhh. Legolas, save your strength.”

 

Moments later, Gimli came in and deposited the bags by her side. He watched her as she began pulling out supplies. One tightly wrapped bundle she laid out in front of her, and she brushed her fingers over it in reverence. With a decisive nod, she carefully unsealed it and it was if a fresh breath of air had swept through the room.  
  
There were packets of herbs, a paste, rolls of soft white bandages, and two crystal decanters of water. She uncapped one and checked its freshness. “Gimli, would you warm some water for me? I need it steaming but not so hot that I can't place my hands in it. Maybe a small bowl's worth, if you please?”  
  
“Aye. I can do that.” He took the container carefully and moved away towards the small hearth.  
  
As he took care of that, Tauriel carefully rolled Legolas on his back. He grimaced in pain but made no sound. When she pulled up his tunic, she couldn't quite stifle her gasp. Black veins of poison reached beyond the swaths of cloth binding the wound and covered his torso.  
  
Tauriel regretfully murmured in his ear. “I'm sorry, Legolas. I must see the wound now.” He gave a small nod to acknowledge her. She lifted him to sit up and he rested against her, panting against the agony. She took a dagger to his tunic rather than try to pull it over his head.  
  
He didn't make a sound until the final bandage pulled away from the injury. Looking at it, she surmised that Legolas must have been stabbed and turned away from the blow; which, while it had caused a great deal of damage, had kept it from being instantly fatal. As carefully as she could, she laid him down.

 

Gimli swore in khudzul from where he'd moved next to her. “It looks worse than before. Can you help him?”  
  
“My kind can survive wounds that would fell any other race, and Legolas is of noble birth.”  
  
When the dwarf handed her a steaming bowl, she nodded at him. “Thank you.”  
  
She opened one of the packets of herbs to find it as fresh as the day it was picked. Taking a portion of it, she crushed it in her hand and dropped it in the bowl. Following some instinct she had no name for, she bowed her head and spoke an old healing chant she'd heard in her youth; allowing the herbs to steep as she did so.  
  
She heard Gimli make a small noise and looked over at him in inquiry. He stared at her, but shook his head. With a nod, she turned back to what she was doing. She pulled the kingsfoil from the water and set the bowl to the side. As gently as she could, she spread the herb across the wound. He fought the pain and held himself still, hands curling into tight fists.  
  
She knelt next to him, hand on his ravaged flesh. As she chanted the healing songs, she could feel the fine quiver of muscles as the pain raced like fire in his veins. She felt the herbs mix with the blood and poison that leaked from the jagged edges of the injury. She felt each of his stuttering breaths as she fought death to keep him here, silently willing him to draw yet another.  
  
Tauriel had no idea of the passing of time. She simply kept singing until at some point she felt all the strength leave her and she pitched forward, barely catching herself before she fully fell onto Legolas. As she raised herself back up, she found herself inches from her Prince's face. His blue eyes stared into hers for a long moment before sliding closed in sleep.  
  
With shaking arms she pushed herself upright and sat back. Gimli's voice was filled with awe. “I have never witnessed such a thing in all my time, and I have met the Lady Galadriel.”

  
Tauriel could do nothing but shake her head. “I am but a silvan elf, Gimli. I am a fair fighter, but little else. Galadriel is the Lady of Light, considered one of the fairest and most powerful of our kind. ”  
  
Gimli huffed. “While it is true that Lady Galdriel's beauty is beyond compare, you did not see yourself. You shone as bright as a star”  
  
Not knowing what to say, she checked on Legolas. There appeared to be no dramatic change. She wasn't sure if the black veins looked lighter or if it was wishful thinking. She didn't want to wake him, so chose to smear some salve on clean cloth and lay it lightly over the wound. She dipped her fingers in the bowl of water and dripped some onto the Prince's lips. There was no reaction, good or bad, and she did this several times before setting the bowl away. “How long ago was he injured?”  
  
The dwarf glanced at the sky outside. “This will be the second night, so two and a half days.”  
  
Tauriel's brow furrowed as she took in her friend's slender form. “He's grown thin. I thought, perhaps, it had been from the fever.”  
  
“He's been this way since I've known him. He looks like all the other elves I've seen.”  
  
“You've never met King Thranduil, his father?” Gimli shook his head, so she continued. “The King is very large. Quite tall, even amongst the elves. Legolas had his father's build, though not his height. He's easily twenty pounds lighter now.”  
  
Gimli shrugged. “He looks normal to me and we've been friends for over a hundred years.”  
  
Tauriel nodded. She fussed with her supplies a bit and settled in to watch over her Prince. Gimli's voice interrupted her thoughts. “I've heard of you.”  
  
She glanced at him. “I met your father, long ago.”  
  
The old dwarf lit his pipe and puffed on it. “I heard tales of the two elves who helped the party, and fought beside them at Erebor. My father often described Legolas as an arrogant ass.”  
  
The elven fighter hmmed in assent. “He has his moments.”  
  
“He's a good friend.”

 

“Yes.”  
  
Gimli was quiet a moment, his voice soft when he did speak. “I also heard of an elven maiden who fell in love with a Dwarven Prince and defied her king to help him.”  
  
Tauriel looked away. “Perhaps. For all the good it did anyone.”  
  
“That was war, lass.” He sighed. “The line of Durin was cursed, and I'm not sure if there was any other way for that to end. It was tragic. And terrible. You've dealt with the consequences for almost two hundred years. If I thought you'd accept it, I'd offer you hearth and sanctuary in the Glittering Caves.”  
  
“I thank you for your offer, you are very kind.”  
  
“Or...you could come with us. Aragorn's time is near, and Legolas already builds a boat to sail across the sea. We do this one last thing to protect Ellesar's children and his kingdom.”  
  
“I grow weary of this world, but I do not know that the Undying Lands is what I seek. I will think on it, Gimli, thank you.”  
  
  
  
The time passed and a routine formed. Tauriel would work to heal Legolas when he woke; offering him sips of the athelas laced water while using the herb on his wound. He'd get a few hours of sleep before the pain would hit again, Tauriel would seek to regain her energy, and Gimli would watch helplessly. More than once, the dwarf had to help her rise afterwards, as she was left too weak to do so on her own.  
  
When she was awake, it was clear that the years in exile had left her lonely and worn down. She'd spent the last 180 years quietly protecting the Greenwood and Erebor. The land there grew peaceful in time, and her people built a colony in Ithilien. She followed, an invisible protector. While Sauron may have been vanquished but his forces had been left behind. Diminished, but not gone. She sought to make sure that they would not harm the races who lived nearby.  
  
Gimli felt the healing was going well, but Tauriel despaired. “I am not a real healer, Gimli. I'm running out of athelas and the wound has not yet closed.”  
  
He laid a calloused hand on her shoulder. “The black is nearly gone, and the fever is broken. This is good.”  
  
Yet she doubted, and when the last of the kingsfoil was steeping, he could see the fear in her face. She opened the leaves of the lembas bread that she had been saving for Legolas. She ate several bites, and washed it down with the last small sip from the crystaline flasks.  
  
Pouring the water from the athelas into another bowl, she crumbled bits of the lembas bread into it. When it was dissolved, she gave it to Legolas.  
  
The wounded elf had been growing more aware and lucid as the healing went on, and it was clear he sensed something. He looked to Gimli in question, and the dwarf could only shrug.  
  
Tauriel's voice started getting a weird echo and the light burned the brightest he'd ever seen it. Legolas looked alarmed. He began calling out to her. With a light so bright that they both had to close their eyes, Tauriel dropped straight onto Legolas' chest. She'd made no attempt to catch herself or stop her fall.  
  
“Tauriel! Tuariel! Are you all right?!” Tauriel's hand remained in place on the wound even after she fell. Legolas pulled it away. He was now trying to move her enough to see her face.  
  
Gimli snapped out of his stupor. He knelt down and checked her over. “She's still breathing, stop your fussing. You're going to hurt yourself.”  
  
He gently rolled the elf maiden off. He was going to maneuver her to his bedding, but Legolas stopped him. “Leave her.”  
  
Gimli leaned back on knees that creaked, and squinted at him. He stayed like that for a while before he stood and moved across to the door. As he left, Gimli turned back. “She's coming with us even if I have to knock her out and tie her to the mast.”  
  
  
Tauriel came to awareness. She blinked, taking in the rough wooden ceiling. She turned her head and she realized she was laying on Legolas' pallet of blankets and furs. She was on one half, and the other side was...empty. The implications froze her heart. Panicked, she cried out “Legolas!”  
  
She used heavy arms to push away the blanket that covered her. She was struggling to rise when the door opened. Legolas limped in slowly, a hand held to his side. “Tauriel.”  
  
Before his entrance, she'd managed to make it roughly to her knees. Gracelessly she fell back against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt Legolas settle next to her.  
  
His voice was gentle in a way she'd never heard it. She realized how much she had missed. How much he had changed. “You almost killed yourself healing me. It was a dangerous thing to do. I wouldn't wish for you to die so that I could live, though I thank you for doing it.”

 

“You are my Prince. It is my place to serve and protect you, my Lord.”  
  
Anger crossed his face. In distant part of her mind, she noted how expressive he was. “I have fought alongside many races and did so proudly. A human woman slayed a Nazgul. Two hobbits traveled to Mordor and saved all of Middle Earth. Their lives were just as precious and important as any elven royalty. So is yours.”  
  
Tauriel glanced to where the empty crystal containers sat in the corner. “Your life was important enough for Galadriel to put in safegaurds for it.”  
  
“I saw those and wondered.”  
  
“In my travels, I passed through Rivendell. Ellodan and Elrohir were there. Before she went, she gave into their keeping a bundle. She told them to wait for a wood elf with long red hair, and that I would know when to use it. She sealed the packet with her powers. The water and herbs were so fresh, I'd have thought them newly gathered and not almost a century old.”

  
“So she Saw this. I am grateful. To both of you. I just ask that you not be so reckless with your life, Tauriel.”  
  
“I could not bear for you to die, too.”  
  
Legolas stared off into the distance. When he turned to her, regret shone in his eyes. “I'm sorry that I left you.”  
  
“It hurt when he died. It hurt so much. And to find you gone, slipped away... It was like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.  
“Kili was innocent. Pure. I think that's what I loved most about him. I don't know what might have been if he'd have lived. But you had been my friend for centuries. We fought side by side. You knew of my feelings for Kili, and yet you helped me fight for him. You protected me from your father, stood by me despite my exile. Why, Legolas? Why did you go without even a word”  
  
“I knew that you loved him. When he died...I thought you were going to fade. I couldn't bear to watch that. It was selfish of me.”

 

“I didn't fade then, even though sometimes I wanted to. It would have hurt less.”  
  
“You fade now, though.”  
  
She looked away. “ Kili once said I walked in starlight, but I feel as if I've walked in shadows so long that I can no longer see the light. Will you leave again, now that you know?”  
  
“No, mellon, no.” [my friend]

 

“Gimli said you were sailing to Valinor. He offered me a place. If I were to chose not to go with you?”  
  
He smiled. “He told me that he'd kidnap you and tie you to the mast.”  
  
He witnessed the first smile she'd given thus far. “I could see him trying.” Tauriel raised her head and looked around. “Where is he?”

 

“He's out getting more hay and supplies. There's a small settlement about a day from here.”

 

They rested, and a day later they heard sounds from outside. Gimli heaved a gigantic sigh of relief when he opened the door and saw them. “You've not managed to do anything foolish and get yerselves killed off, I see.”  
  
He disappeared, and came back in with a small barrel and some burlap bags. “We'll need to be heading back soon; word is the king is failing.”  
  
Legolas closed his eyes, sadness washing across his face. “We'll leave in the morning.”  
  
“Are you both well enough?”  
  
The elven Prince rose gracefully. “Elven healing is a wondrous thing, my friend. I can't fault you for not knowing, since your kind heals so slowly.”  
  
Gimli tossed one of the bags at him. “Ach! Then get your skinny ass out here and help me.”  
  
Outside, Legolas took in the small cart and pony that Gimli had brought back. The dwarf grabbed his friend's arm. “Are you well enough to travel? It's rough terrain between us and Minas Tirith, and the way station didn't have much to spare. This was the best I could get and it barely fit the supplies.”  
  
The elf clasped his friend's shoulder with warm fondness. “Thank you for your concern. I'm more worried for Tauriel. She gave greatly of herself to save me, and she was already weary.”  
  
“So I was right?”  
  
“Yes. She's probably been fading for some time. If I had to make a guess, this trip into Mordor was an attempt to go out in battle rather than face the madness that can come.” He saw that Gimli didn't comprehend. “Fading is painful, Gimli. It can be such an agony that it can drive us to insanity.”  
  
Gimli fingered the handle of his axe. “She's a good one...for an elf. I wasn't kidding about whacking her over the head and hauling her onto the boat. You lot all have hard heads. She'll recover.”  
  
Legolas smiled. “I think you'll find, my friend, that Tauriel is nearly my equal in battle. She was once captain of the guard, and she's a fierce fighter.”  
  
“Eh. I'll sneak up on her, She'll never see me coming.”  
  
Legolas looked pointedly at Gimli's booted feet and smirked. “Of course.”  
  
Gimli grumped and unloaded the hay. “I'm going to feed these beasts. Get dinner going would ya? I'm hungry.”  
  
  
Later as they ate Legolas commented, “You brought enough food to feed the company for a fortnight.”  
  
“No, I bought enough for one old dwarf and two injured elves. We're halfway to Mount Doom. We won't be making Minis Tirith in a few days. We'll be lucky to get there within the next two weeks.”  
  
It turned out, Gimli was correct. Travel was slow, breaks were common, and more than often than not they set up camp well before evening. He drove the cart, while Legolas and Tauriel rode the horse. Legolas was on the mend, but riding was unkind to healing abdominal muscles.

  
They had just started the day and were about to pass the rocky area surrounding Minas Morgul, when Tauriel sat up straight and reached for her bow. “I smell orc.”  
  
Gimli grabbed his axe but asked, “This far out, lass, are you sure?”  
  
Legolas had his bow ready. “It's a mix of orc and men.”  
  
“Raiders most likely. This would be the best spot to hit supply caravans coming into the area.” Tauriel looked around and spotted movement. She yelled, “There!” even as she shot her first arrow.  
  
An orc tumbled from the rock, and the group of raiders surged towards them. The two archers shot the first several, but soon they were surrounding Gimli and the cart. Some of the rest formed a wedge and tried to drive the elves back; but Tauriel stood up on the horse, then flipped through the air above their heads to land on the cart.  
  
Gimli could appreciate her fighting prowess, even as he battled. The elf dove, spun, flipped, and stabbed in a whirlwind of motion. He caught a glimpse of Legolas through the melee when Tauriel cried out. He saw his friend leap, jump off an orc, and land behind the elf maiden. The two began working in-sync to take down the remaining ambushers.  
  
When the last one fell, Tauriel dropped to her knees, panting hard. Legolas stood from his crouch, and sheathed his weapons. With a grimace, he put a hand to his healing side. He took in a shaky breath and knelt in front of Tauriel. “Are you all right?”  
  
She could only nod as she fought to catch her breath. Legolas reached out and touched her arm. He could see a rip in her shirt. Moving it aside a bit revealed a deep gash. It was nothing a healthy elf couldn't heal quickly. He looked around at the weapons. None glinted black. A quick sniff of the air revealed nothing besides the visceral smells of blood and death. There was no hint of the rotten scent he associated with most orc weapons.  
  
He pulled her to her feet. “Let's move out out a ways and make camp. We need to rest and regroup.”  
  
They found a suitable place an hour out. They'd all pitched in to set up camp. Tauriel was asleep in her bedroll, injured arm bandaged.  
  
Gimli sat on a rock, pipe lit. He studied Tauriel a moment. “I've known you a long time now, my friend. You never mentioned her. Not once. Yet you look at her in a way I've not seen you look at anyone else.”  
  
“Elves love but once, Gimli.”  
  
“Aye. Dwarves are the same.”  
  
“I have loved Tauriel for centuries, but Kili was her one love. There is no other for her.”  
  
Gimli pondered. “You did not see the lass when she thought you were dying. There are no exceptions?”  
  
“No. I'm her friend and we've known each other a long time. She was raised at my father's table.”  
  
Gimli shook his head. “No, Legolas. She would have given her life for yours. Nearly did. No, this was more. Did Tauriel and Prince Kili consummate their love?”  
  
Legolas looked shocked. “I don't believe they had any meaningful contact, in a physical way. That's reserved for marriage.”  
  
“Right. So they only had a handful of moments together over a few weeks. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to diminish their feelings.” He tapped the ash out of his pipe and thought. “Do two maidens not ever fight over a single buck?”  
  
Legolas inclined his head. “It's been known to happen.”  
  
“So lets say one of those maidens ends up with the lad. Does the other one pine for him the rest of their lives since they only get to love once?”  
  
“Not usually. The love hasn't been realized in full, so their heart can still find another.”  
  
Gimli tipped his head at Tauriel. Legolas shook his head and looked pensive. “She loved him truly, Gimli. She grieved and I feared she'd fade from us.”  
  
“Will you not grieve at Aragorn's passing? Or mine? They never had the chance to truly love each other. Was there ever a time where you thought she returned your affections?”  
  
“I thought she might once, but my father didn't approve. While I have a measure of protection from my father's wrath, she had none.”

 

The old dwarf heaved a sigh. “I don't know, Legolas. Maybe it's not as simple as you think. She looked like your loss would shatter her. That's love in my book, but I don't know.”  
  
It was just over two weeks when the bedraggled trio rode into Minas Tirith. Despite Legolas' protests, both elves were directed into the halls of healing. They were bathed and fed. Legolas was taken to a set of private rooms. She remained in a more public, curtained area, though Lady Arwen herself came in and saw to her.  
  
Tauriel found her to be kind, and very gentle. Her melodic voice hinted at her sadness when she spoke. “I am glad to see you and Legolas looking as well as you do.”  
  
“It's all thanks to Lady Galadriel. She left items of healing for the Prince.”  
  
Arwen smiled gently and took her hands. “You do yourself a disservice, Tauriel. Even athelas and healing water will do no good in unskilled hands. It was your hands and your spirit that saved Legolas.  
“And it is that spirit which is greatly wounded. Your body was already weakening. Draining your spirit has left you in a very fragile state. We'll do what we can, but sailing to Valinor may be your only option.”  
  
Arwen stepped away and grabbed a basin. As she cleaned the wound on Tauriel's arm, she hummed softly. The lingering pain all but disappeared.  
  
“How is Legolas?” Tauriel couldn't hold the question in any longer. She worried for her Prince. It had been a difficult journey while recovering from such a serious wound.  
  
Arwen's eyes lit up with amusement. “All he needs is a few days of rest. He is also lingering just beyond the curtains.”  
  
She heard light steps and then the curtains pulled back. Legolas looked much better. He was clean and no longer spattered in blood. The tension that had lined his face had eased and he held himself with his normal grace. It brought a relieved smile to her face.  
  
He moved to her side. “Are you well, Tauriel?”  
  
She inclined her head. “I am, thank you.”  
  
Tauriel caught Legolas glancing at Lady Arwen, and the slight shake of the healer's head. Some of that tension returned and she hated to be the cause of it. “I am well enough.” She stood. “We should find Gimli.”  
  
“He would be with Aragorn in the dining hall.”  
  
“If I may ask, how is King Ellesar?”  
  
Arwen was calm, almost serene, but that sense of sadness intensified. “He hasn't much longer, I'm afraid. But today is a good day, and he is happy to have two old friends return to him. He is also looking forward to meeting you, Tauriel.”  
  
Dinner was a warm, informal affair. She found the king to be intelligent and sharp witted despite the years catching up to him. Tauriel enjoyed meeting him, and was saddened by Arwen's clear choice. And yet...she understood it.  
  
Days later, when the king passed, Arwen turned away from all but her children. It was a surprise, then, to find the elven Queen waiting for her in her room. Old eyes stared out from an ageless face. Arwen rose and lay her hands on Tauriel's cheeks. “This is my choice, but it needn't be yours.” Later, Tauriel couldn't tell you what happened, only that warmth and light infused her soul, and when she came back to herself, Arwen was gone.

  
After the funeral, Gimli and Legolas stayed for a while, but knew it was time to move on. An age had ended, and they didn't belong in it anymore. Legolas and Tauriel headed to check on the boat that would bear him across the ocean. Gimli went to the Glittering caves to say his goodbyes and settle his affairs.  
  
“Will you come with us?” Legolas stared out into the waters.  
  
“I'm not ready. I want to see the Greenwood.” She glanced at him, “And where Kili died.”  
  


He stood. “Then we'll go. I'll leave a message for Gimli.”

 

Tauriel looked up at him for a long moment. Something in her face lightened and he held out his hand. She took it and he pulled her up. They stood there, her hand in his. He pulled her into him and held her close. He took a deep breath, and felt like he was finally getting air after nearly two centuries.  
  
Travelling light with elven horses made the trip easier. It was just over a month before they drew near the elven King's Hall. Tauriel was pale. “I was banished. I should not be here. I just wished to see the forest one last time.”  
  
“Come, Tauriel. We should speak to him and tell him we're sailing.”  
  
He held out his hand and with a great deal of trepidation, she took it. The guards gave short bows to Legolas as they passed. As they entered the throne room the King's eyes widened briefly, then he settled casually back onto his throne. “Legolas.”  
  
Tauriel dropped into a deep curtsy, while Legolas gave a nod. “Father.”  
  
“Are you here about our colony in Ithilien? How does it fare?”  
  
“Many are seeking to sail West. I came to tell you that we would be among them.”  
  
“We.” The King stared pointedly at their joined hands.  
  
“Tauriel and I, along with my friend Gimli.”  
  
Thranduil spat, “Gimli. You would sully Valinor's pristine shores with a _dwarf_!”  
  
Legolas stood fast. “Two hobbits have already sailed across with Galadriel. They've all earned that right.”  
  
The King looked deceptively passive, leaning back in his throne, but Tauriel didn't like the look in his eyes.

 

“And _this_ one was banished!” In a move too fast to follow, he surged out of his throne and ripped her away from his son. He flung her away as if she were waste. Tauriel hit the stairs, tumbled down several steps, and then went over the drop. With a cry, she hit the ground below.  
  
Thranduil seemed mildly shocked that the warrior had neither stopped herself from falling, nor had she gotten up. He peered down at her unmoving form while Legolas nimbly dropped over the edge. His father's voice followed him down. “It seems your little wood elf is no longer much of a fighter.”  
  
Legolas stared up at the King. His voice conveyed his anger despite his measured words. “Tauriel was already fading when she gave much of her spirit to save my life. I was dying of a poisoned orc wound. I wouldn't have lived another night, and she nearly died in the effort. Despite Queen Arwen's best efforts, Tauriel's health and spirit are failing.

  
“If she fades before we sail, I will stay and follow her. She is my heart and I won't leave her again. You may be my king, but you do not command my heart; and my heart has been Tauriel's since she was first fostered at our table. Not in a hundred years or twenty thousand years will that change.” He picked up Tauriel, turned, and left the throne room, never looking back. If he had, he might have seen the king's head bowed in sorrow.  
  
He murmured into her hair as they rode away. “I'm sorry, meleth nin. [beloved] I knew he would be angry, but I never thought he'd truly harm you.”  
  
He moved them past his father's borders, to an old hunting camp by the river. Tauriel still had not woken, though her breathing was steady, He checked for broken limbs and obvious injuries, but found none. With nothing else to do for her, he started a small fire.  
  
Legolas was placing a small cooking cauldron on the fire when he spun, whipping an arrow out and pointing his bow at an intruder several yards away at the woods edge. The elf bowed. “Mae Govannen, Prince Legolas. [well met] The King has sent me to tend to your partner.”  
  
The Prince inclined his head, knowing that Tauriel could use the help. As he watched the healer come forward, Legolas glimpsed a flash of white almost too far in to see. Ignoring it, he turned.  
  
“Her spirit is diminished, my Lord. She did this in a healing?”  
  
“Yes. She healed me.” Legolas pulled aside layers of cloth to expose the scar.  
  
The healer looked at him for permission and he gave it. His fingers lightly touched it, and at once, the older elf exclaimed. “Nan Belain! This was a mortal wound!” [By the Valar!]  
  
“Orc poisoned spear and a deep gut wound. By the time Tauriel arrived, the poison had nearly reached my heart. Whether by wound or by poison, I should be dead.”  
  
“You should, My Lord. This is a Major working. Tauriel's skills at healing were never at that level. As a warrior, that she could heal at all, was a feat.”  
  
“She did have help, but she gave utterly of herself to do this. I'm told she performed healings every few hours around the clock for nearly three days. She visibly glowed each time, and on the last she was brighter than the north star.”  
  
“What help do you refer to?”  
  
“The Lady Galadriel left two decanters of healing waters and athelas. She Saw this, and gave the package in the care of her grandsons.”

 

He shook his head. “Even so, this was beyond anything I understand. You both are truly blessed by the Valar.” The healer looked towards the woods and then back. “You bear signs of fading, but are not any longer.”  
  
Legolas' sensitive ears picked up the hissed intake of breath. “I began to fade the moment I walked away from Tauriel after the Battle of the Five Armies. The only thing that kept me here were my friendships with King Elessar, and Gimli son of Gloin. While I still hear the call of the sea, my spirit no longer consumes me. It stopped when Tauriel agreed to sail to Aman with me.”  
  
The healer nodded. “Then let me see if I can help her.”  
  
After a while, he sat back. “She is already being aided by a force far greater than I. Lady Arwen was a truly talented healer, and it is her work I sense here. Tauriel should wake in the morn.”  
  
With a bow, he left. Legolas stood facing the woods, waiting. After a time, Thranduil stepped out. He came no closer. He placed his hand to his chest and bowed. He turned his gaze to Tauriel's prone form, and repeated the action. With a nod to his son, he faded back into the woods and soon Legolas couldn't feel him anymore.  
  
The next day Tauriel woke as promised. She moved stiffly, but claimed nothing pained her. She wanted to be off to Erebor. They did stay the night in Dale, at his insistence. She was still pale, and he was afraid of what was to come.  
  
As they moved towards the hills and cliffs surrounding Erebor, they were spotted by several sentries. The first looked at them suspiciously. When another peered down at them, he looked surprised. Legolas could see him shake his head and both dwarves pulled back. Shortly thereafter, a raven flew towards Erebor.  
  
Something similar happened near the second watch post, but soon he noticed ravens flying back and forth. By the third, only curious eyes followed them. Tauriel seemed to see none of this; not wavering in her path. She climbed the hills and entered the tower while Legolas watched over her.  
  
Once again he found himself standing in the doorway, watching Tauriel grieve. This time he stood fast and when she was ready, she came to him. She leaned into his warmth, before leading the way out.  
  
They left right away for Ithilien, and the trip was unremarkable. No sign of taint or war seemed evident anymore. They found Gimli waiting for them and he berated the pair for up and leaving. Then he slapped Legolas on the back, pulled out a cask of ale, and drank with them into the night.  
  
The next day, their little boat sailed alongside others heading towards Aman. The settlement had decided to leave with them. The small fleet traveled together, and the weather held.  
  
Early one morning, Tauriel awoke. Legolas, sensitive to his surroundings, was already up. She turned to him, joy on her face. “Do you feel that?”  
  
“I do.” He pulled her up and they arose to see the sun rise on their new home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of played with the immense change in Orlando Bloom's appearance between the Hobbit and LOTR. While the Hobbit was 60 years prior to the events of LOTR, filming started on the LOTR series in 1999 and the Hobbit movies finished filming some 12-13 years later. Real people change over time but elves don't...so this was my spin to account for that.


End file.
